Just to preface the following remarks, I've been wearing a good quality felt hat since I found out that girls existed and that Frannie Cooper, our high school's head cheerleader, made the remark to me one afternoon that she might be interested in a tall, lanky cowboy if he would clean up occasionally.
After that, I polished my boots, my sweat-stained felt hat was relegated to the back of the closet, and I procured one of my older brother's cast-off felts that still looked pretty good.
I can still remember, a few years later, going into town to buy my first, very own hat. (All of my others, up to that time, had either been hand-me-downs or given to me by my folks for my birthday or something.)
It was a 4x beaver Stetson. This was back in the day when the x's really meant something. It was a brand new silverbelly and cost me $12.50. I remember thinking, "Dang! This thing is expensive!" But I was making pretty good wages at the time (50 cents an hour), so I figured I could splurge a bit.
By the way, many years later, my oldest son decided he wanted that old hat, so he claimed it as his own. Now, his son owns it and, in fact, wore it on the first pack trip I took him on when he was ten years old.
Anyway, I'm digressing. Well, a couple of days ago, I got in the old truck and drove down to my daughter's house and told her I was taking her out to lunch. I had cleaned up a bit. Put on a real nice pair of dress boots, a button-down collar, long-sleeve shirt and a custom-made 8x beaver, 5½-inch open crowned, 4-inch pencil-rolled brim hat.
We went to lunch at a nice little sit-down place. I took my hat off as we sat down. The waitress casually remarked, "That certainly is a nice-looking cowboy hat, sir."
I thanked her kindly and then said, "Ma'am, just for future reference, it's not a cowboy hat. It's a hat. Everything else is just a cap!"
Blake wearing the old 4x beaver Stetson on his first pack trip.
It's a HAT!!!
After that, I polished my boots, my sweat-stained felt hat was relegated to the back of the closet, and I procured one of my older brother's cast-off felts that still looked pretty good.
I can still remember, a few years later, going into town to buy my first, very own hat. (All of my others, up to that time, had either been hand-me-downs or given to me by my folks for my birthday or something.)
It was a 4x beaver Stetson. This was back in the day when the x's really meant something. It was a brand new silverbelly and cost me $12.50. I remember thinking, "Dang! This thing is expensive!" But I was making pretty good wages at the time (50 cents an hour), so I figured I could splurge a bit.
By the way, many years later, my oldest son decided he wanted that old hat, so he claimed it as his own. Now, his son owns it and, in fact, wore it on the first pack trip I took him on when he was ten years old.
Anyway, I'm digressing. Well, a couple of days ago, I got in the old truck and drove down to my daughter's house and told her I was taking her out to lunch. I had cleaned up a bit. Put on a real nice pair of dress boots, a button-down collar, long-sleeve shirt and a custom-made 8x beaver, 5½-inch open crowned, 4-inch pencil-rolled brim hat.
We went to lunch at a nice little sit-down place. I took my hat off as we sat down. The waitress casually remarked, "That certainly is a nice-looking cowboy hat, sir."
I thanked her kindly and then said, "Ma'am, just for future reference, it's not a cowboy hat. It's a hat. Everything else is just a cap!"
Blake wearing the old 4x beaver Stetson on his first pack trip.
It's a HAT!!!
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